A Mother's Gift
by Orangeblossom Took1
Summary: Finduilas dies young but leaves her sons a legacy of love. *completed*
1. A Mother's Gift 1

A Mother's gift 1: Fearful Dreams Minas Tirith Early Summer, 2988  
  
The tall, golden-haired woman felt no warmth, although she looked out on a bright summer's day wrapped in the warm blue cloak decorated with silver stars her husband gave her when she was pregnant with their second child. She sat in a chair by a window in her bedroom that offered an expansive view of the city gleaming palely in the sun. She was always cold now and, always a slender woman, she was now emaciated and her skin had the transparency of wax.  
  
Her little son Faramir was the first to know how serious her illness was. He turned five in the spring but had been only four when he came to breakfast on a winter morning pale as a sheet and trembling. He didn't cry because, as young as he was, he knew his father would not tolerate tears.  
  
"Mother," he said, "I dreamed that you died. It was so real."  
  
Denethor interrupted harshly, "Faramir, you are too old for such foolishness! Boromir does not let something as ridiculous as a dream upset him!"  
  
Faramir looked his father in the eye and said, "I can't help it father, and it is what I dreamed. Mother told me to tell her any important dreams I had."  
  
Denethor's eyes blazed and he raised his hand to slap the child. If Boromir, a sturdy and sunny nine-year-old, hadn't spoken up Denethor might actually have done it.  
  
Boromir put his arm around his little brother's trembling shoulders and said, "If I had had such a dream, father, I would have been frightened too. I never have dreams like Fari does, though, so of course I don't get upset over them." Then, he looked at Faramir and said, "Don't worry, Fari. Mother will be better by summertime, you'll see."  
  
Denethor lowered his hand and his expression softened.  
  
"Well," he said, "I hope you are right, Boromir. Finduilas, You shouldn't coddle Faramir."  
  
"He is only four, Denethor," she said through clenched teeth. She would never understand how unreasonable her husband was regarding their younger son.  
  
She sighed remembering that morning. She wished her dear Boromir had been right instead of Fari's dream. She had gotten worse, not better. It was as if something was gnawing at her from her insides.  
  
In a way, the dreams she had been having and her worry about what would happen to her boys when she was gone was worse than the physical pain. She had been dreaming about her sons' futures. She saw Boromir pierced by arrows and Faramir pale as death and wreathed in flame. She shuddered and drew the cloak tighter around her. She would have to comfort herself with the thought that what she saw in her dreams might not come to pass and that Boromir would shield his brother from Denethor.  
  
She heard a knock at the door. It was her sons.  
  
Faramir ran to her with a bouquet of roses and daisies in a vase of green glass and said, "We picked this for you, mother."  
  
Boromir smiled and said, "Fari knows the names of most of the herbs and flowers in the garden now, more even than I do. Set the vase on that table by the window, Fari."  
  
Finduilas looked at the dark hair and gray eyes that were so dear to her, took them in her arms and said, "You two must love and look after each other no matter what." 


	2. A Mother's Gift 2

A Mother's Gift 2: The Confrontation Minas Tirith Early Summer 2988  
  
It was another summer day and Finduilas had no strength to do anything more than sit by her window and attempt to drink the weak tea and eat the soft bread her ladies brought her.  
  
In the afternoon, Faramir came in carrying a little bird cupped gently in his hands. It had mostly blue feathers except for its head, which had a few golden feathers on it. Finduilas could see it was a kind of bird that did not normally fly free around the White City but was brought from the south to be kept as a pet.  
  
Faramir said, "Look what I found behind the rose bushes in the kitchen garden." and showed her the small creature, stunned but otherwise unhurt, shivering in his hands.  
  
She smoothed tangled black hair away from his forehead and said, "Oh, what a pretty little thing, Fari. What happened to it?"  
  
Faramir smiled and said, "Boromir and I were playing in the herb garden by the kitchen because cook was making some pies and said she would make an extra one for us."  
  
Finduilas noticed the berry-stains around his mouth and laughed, "I see you rascals succeeded in charming her into letting you spoil your dinner. Do go on, dear."  
  
Faramir, breathless with excitement, continued, "Well, the bird was flitting about the kitchen, as if he was trying to get in and accidentally flew into a widow and fell to the ground. That orange cat of cook's saw him fall and tried to leap on him but Boromir grabbed the cat by its scruff and brought it back to cook. I scooped up the bird."  
  
The bird hopped onto Faramir's finger, cocked its bright head at Finduilas, and chirped expectantly. Finduilas held her hand out to the tiny bundle of feathers and it hopped from her son's small finger to her own.  
  
Finduilas gasped in delight and said, "He is charming, Fari, and obviously used to people. We must find a cage for him. Where is your brother?"  
  
The little boy grinned at his mother and said, "Boromir is looking for a cage right now. He should be here soon. What will you name him, mother."  
  
She smiled and said, "I was thinking about naming him after your uncle Imrahil, but I think I will name him Finwë."  
  
Faramir took a handful of seeds he got from the kitchen out of his pocket and fed one to the bird as it sat on Finduilas' finger. Both mother and son froze to hear the heavy approach of Denethor's steps and Finwë flew and perched on the edge of the canopy of Finduilas' bed.  
  
Denethor stalked into the room and his anger was a tangible thing. He shouted at the boy for daring to disturb the rest of his sick mother and causing nothing but trouble. Before Finduilas could struggle to her feet and intervene, he struck the child so hard across the face that Faramir rocked back on his feet and a red mark immediately sprung up on his soft cheek. He did not cry but stood straight and silent.  
  
Finduilas, in a quick movement that cost her much in pain, got out of her chair and strode quickly to stand between her husband and son. She had had more than enough of this. If she had been well and alert, it would have stopped long ago. What she at first thought was simply Denethor's favoring Boromir had become much worse since she became ill.  
  
"Denethor," she said coldly, "If you touch my child again while I still walk this Middle Earth I will make you regret it. How would you like it put about that the Steward makes an enemy of his own small son? Then, of course, there is my brother. Imrahil values both his nephews and will not be idle if you persist in this. Fari was doing no harm. Leave my room. Now. In the name of the love we once shared that created this child, leave or I will have your blood on my hands."  
  
Denethor had to know that that last was bluster but could see the resolve in her eyes. They heard Boromir's steps, quick and light, approaching the room.  
  
He burst through the door holding a birdcage and said, "Mother, Fari I heard shouting. Are you okay?"  
  
The boy looked from his mother, to his father, and then to his little brother standing like a statue with a red mark on his face. He calmly put the cage down, gave Denethor a look of reproach that almost shamed the Steward, and took Faramir in his arms.  
  
Something in Denethor seemed to crack and the rage drained out of him. He said, "As you will, Finduilas." and left the room.  
  
After he left, Finduilas collapsed on her bed in agony. Her sons rushed to attend her. Boromir helped her sit up in the bed and placed pillows behind her back and Faramir brought her a cup of tea from the pot by her window. After all was again calm, Finwë flew down from the canopy to perch on Faramir's head and the child placed the bird in the cage Boromir found.  
  
After they had been silent for some time Finduilas held her younger son close, kissed his injured cheek and said, "I am so sorry, Fari, so very sorry." She looked at Boromir and said, "Boromir, dear, would you pick out a book for us to read. If I get too tired, you can take over."  
  
Boromir picked out a volume of old heroic tales and Finduilas read to her sons as they nestled in the bed beside her. Somehow, she found the strength to read until they both fell asleep curled against her and entwined in each other's arms. 


	3. A Mother's Gift 3

A Mother's Gift: Brothers Minas Tirith Late Summer 2988  
  
Summer was on the cusp of turning into fall when Finduilas became too weak to get out of bed. She now relied on the medicines the healers gave her to sleep at night. As the light that streamed through the window during the day became more golden and the air that wafted through the windows at night began to carry the scent of dying leaves, Finduilas knew she could delay no longer.  
  
Faramir spent most of the time in her room now and, although he had lessons to attend to, Boromir also spent a great deal of time there. There was more than enough space in her private room for two small beds that her sons could sleep in and Boromir and Faramir slept there every night now. It gave her pleasure to see their dark hair falling over their foreheads and their closed eyes framed by long lashes as they dreamed.  
  
She had refused to speak with Denethor or hear his entreaties for her to give him an audience. She had nothing to say to her husband but she had to think of some way to ensure that her boys, especially Faramir, would be as protected as possible when she could no longer be physically present.  
  
On a day that descended into a lavender dusk and then into a night lit by an enormous golden moon, Finduilas gazed upon her sleeping sons illuminated by the moonlight and knew she had to summon her brother. Imrahil would know how to help her.  
  
Her message was sent out and Imrahil arrived more quickly than she could have hoped. She had not seen her brother in a long time and was very glad that he had come. She sent the boys to play in the garden while she spoke with her sibling.  
  
Imrahil sat on the edge of her bed, took one of her hands in his, and said, "Fin, I wish you had called me sooner. I did not know how badly it was with you. I know it is not just the physical, as dire as that is. You wrote that you needed my help and I am no healer."  
  
Finduilas took a deep breath and told him of how Denethor, who had never taken to Faramir as he had to Boromir, had shown an increasingly irrational hostility towards the child since the beginning of her illness. When she concluded her story, she noticed that Imrahil's eyes flashed in anger briefly before filling with compassion.  
  
He stroked her hair and said, "Fin, Fin. I can't believe he dared do such a thing. It could be that lashing out at Fari is the way he chooses to express his anger and grief at your illness. A less-favorite child can make a convenient scapegoat."  
  
Finduilas scowled at her brother, "Imrahil, It is no excuse! It is unforgivable! Our father never..."  
  
He shook his head and said, "I did not say that it was forgivable or offer that as an excuse. It is but a possible reason and I may be wrong. I spoke with him before I came to your room and I think he still loves you."  
  
She gave a sad smile and said, "But, my brother, I can no longer love him."  
  
He turned very grave and said, "You have to speak with him sister, whether you love him or not. Think how alone he is right now. You will not speak to him and even Boromir spends his time here and not with his father. That is, perhaps, as it should be but you should let him say goodbye."  
  
She pursed her lips and said, "That is something to think on, Imrahil. I will offer him no comfort but I must see him." Her face crumpled then and she moaned, "Oh, Imrahil! What about Fari? I can't leave him like this! And my little Boromir! Denethor won't hurt him but he will try and protect his brother. That is admirable but such a burden for a small boy."  
  
He stroked her hand and said, "He wouldn't object if I took Faramir to stay for awhile with me in Dol Amroth? It would be wise, at least until Denethor's grief abates."  
  
She sighed and replied, "Yes, that is an option. The boys do love each other so, however. Must they lose each other and me at the same time? Can you not take them both?"  
  
He frowned and said, "Yes, I could. Boromir is a fine little lad and I am fond of him but Denethor will need him. You know he will not hurt Boromir."  
  
She used all her strength to sit up in the bed and said, "That is true, but I hate to sacrifice Fari to salve Denethor's pain. I will hear what he has to say to me, then decide."  
  
Imrahil left to find Denethor in such a hurry that he did not notice two small, stricken figures quickly hiding in an adjoining doorway. Boromir and Faramir had not been playing in the garden but eavesdropping on their mother and uncle and what they heard filled them with grief. 


	4. A Mother's Gift 4

A Mother's Gift 4: The Pledge  
  
Minas Tirith late summer 2988  
  
Finduilas sat in her bed, watched Finwë hop about in his cage, and waited for Denethor. She remembered when she first saw him as a tall man in his prime with raven-black hair. He seemed so strong and self-assured then and he knew just how to flatter her. He had been such a loving father to Boromir and so happy when she again became pregnant and gave her that beautiful cloak she so prized as a gift. These thoughts made her even angrier and more disappointed that he had failed her and their sons now when they needed him the most.  
  
When a chastened Denethor entered her room she spoke in a tone as sharp as daggers and said, "I understand that you have something to say to me, my lord. I will hear you but do be brief and expect no soft reply."  
  
In a faltering voice he said, "Fin, I can offer no apology great enough for what I did. I don't know why Faramir makes me so angry. When I look at him, it is as if I don't see him. I only have these dark thoughts running through my mind about what an unworthy son he is. I feel as if I am not myself when that happens. I know I should have been thinking of you and showing kindness toward both the boys."  
  
Finduilas' features and voice did not betray any softening, she gathered words like daggers of ice and said, "It is you, my lord, who are an unworthy father. Faramir is a loving child and Boromir, who is the light of your eyes, loves his little brother. If you continue to mistreat Fari, how long do you think it will be before you lose Boromir's affection? Boromir is a child and more forgiving than I am but even his love can be lost."  
  
In a ragged, defeated voice the Steward said, "I realize that, Fin. I never meant..."  
  
She interrupted him sharply and said, "You never meant what, my lord? You never meant to strike a five-year-old child? You never meant to bring further troubles on your ill wife? Tell me what you never meant!"  
  
He ran his hand through dark hair elegantly streaked with silver and said, "I never meant any of that, Fin. I promise..."  
  
Finduilas laughed bitterly and snapped, "Promise me nothing, my lord! I will not rely on your promises. I know I do not need your oath to assure me you will be kind to Boromir. I will not trust my little Fari to your word. He will go to Dol Amroth. My brother. Imrahil and his wife Idril will care for him."  
  
In a faltering voice Denethor said, "I vow, Finduilas, that I will strive to be a good father to both my sons and will not harm Fari if he does return to Minas Tirith. I will accede to your wishes."  
  
Finduilas was only slightly mollified and said, "Those are fine but useless words. I will ask one small thing of you, Denethor. Give Faramir my cloak to remember me by. You can manage that, can't you?"  
  
Denethor bowed his head and said, "I will do as you wish, Finduilas. May I ask one thing of you? Let me continue to visit this room until the end. I love you, Fin."  
  
Finduilas softened to a small degree and said, "You may. I am tired now, Denethor. You may leave. Send my brother back in."  
  
Denethor, with sunken shoulders and a bowed head, slowly left the room. Finduilas closed her eyes and rested until, some time later. She heard her brother enter the room. He had both her sons with him.  
  
Imrahil smiled sadly and said, "Look what I found, Finduilas. They were not in the garden, after all. I believe they heard everything."  
  
She sighed and said, "Come here, my loves."  
  
The boys remained silent and went to sit on her bed.  
  
She spoke first to Boromir and said, "My valiant little son, I know you would protect Fari but you shouldn't have to. I am very loath to separate you but think how good Uncle Imrahil is. He will not mind you visiting from time to time and will provide a safe place for Faramir. You are all your father cares for in the world. He will need you. You will promise me to always be a good brother and son and to protect those weaker than you?"  
  
Tears glistened in the ten-year-old's eyes and he replied, "I will, mother. I swear it."  
  
She turned to her younger child and said, "Will you promise me the same, Fari? Also, tell me that you will never feel inferior to anyone and know your own worth."  
  
A tearful Faramir replied, "I promise."  
  
She hugged them together and said, "I love you both, never forget that."  
  
After she spoke those words, all the strength seemed to drain out of her and she felt an intense pain. She saw a look of alarm on Imrahil's eyes and said, "My brother, I am sorry I will never see your little son Elphir or my own boys grow up. Watch over them for me. Now, I need to rest."  
  
The man and two boys left the room and let Finduilas sleep. The last image to flicker in her mind before blackness took her was Faramir as a grown man gently placing her cloak around the shoulders of a sad, golden-haired girl.  
  
Several hours later, when the healer came with medicine, he found her still and serene as if she had been sleeping but he knew immediately she was gone.  
  
To be continued... 


	5. A Mother's Gift 5

Finduilas Menu

A Mother's Gift: The final farewell  
Minas Tirith 2988  
  
On the day of Finduilas' funeral, a gray figure on a white horse rode up to the White City and hurried toward a meeting with Prince Imrahil. This arrival went unremarked by a five-year-old who, in a room deep within a palace draped with black cloth, lay on a bed wrapped in his mother's cloak and trapped in grief and terrifying dreams.  
  
He could not believe that his mother was gone; it was too terrible of a thought to take in. Almost as horrible to him was the thought that he would go to Dol Amroth while Boromir would remain in Minas Tirith. He was an intelligent boy and understood the reasons for it. He liked his uncle and his father often frightened him but he would rather be with Boromir, even if it meant risking Denethor's fists. He knew he would do what his mother wanted. He had promised he would. He barely noticed when his brother sat down next to him on the bed.  
  
Boromir embraced his little brother and said, "We will see each other again, Fari. You know that. Father and I will visit you at Dol Amroth and, when father is himself again, you can come back home. It is his grief and worry for mother that makes him act like that and Uncle Imrahil is always very kind."  
  
Faramir, voice choked with tears, said, "But it will be so long before I see you again, Boromir!"  
  
The boys sat on their mother's large, canopied bed and discussed how Faramir would take their mother's bird Finwe with him and how they would write often and never forget each other. They were nestled together on the bed when their uncle entered the room with Gandalf.  
  
The wizard gave the boys a long, assessing look filled with compassion and said, "Hello. I am Gandalf the Grey and I will be going to Dol Amroth with Imrahil and young Faramir here. Boromir, my lad, go with your uncle for a minute. I would like to have a word with your brother."  
  
Somewhat reluctantly, Boromir left the room with his uncle. Gandalf sat on the bed next to Faramir, smiled and said, "Faramir, your uncle tells me you have interesting dreams. I think I can help you with that. I also think there are a great deal of other things I could teach you and I will stay in Dol Amroth so that I may do so. Would you like that?"  
  
The boy took in the kind eyes and smile of the wizard, perked up with interest and said, "I think so. Can you make me stop having dreams? The ones I have are usually bad and make father angry."  
  
Gandalf frowned and said, "My dear boy, dreams can tell us many important things. You should not wish yours away. Are they disturbing your rest? If they are, I can help."  
  
The boy shivered, nodded his head, and said, "They do. I dreamed mother died and then she did. Now they are all of being alone in the dark or burning."  
  
Gandalf put his hand on the boy's forehead and said, "Close your eyes and don't be afraid."  
  
Faramir felt a warm glow as if he was sitting by a fireplace and fell into a deep sleep. He awoke some time later when his father entered the room. Gandalf and the others were not in sight.  
  
Denethor's tone was at first non-threatening and he said, "I was wondering where that cloak was. I need it, Faramir. They are dressing your mother for burial and I want her to be wearing that cloak."  
  
Faramir, wary but stubborn, replied, "Mother said I could have it."  
  
Darkness seemed to come into Denethor's eyes and his body tensed, "She did not know what she was doing. She was ill. That cloak was my gift to her and I will dispose of it as I will!"  
  
Faramir stood up on the bed and inched away from his father. The Steward grabbed the edge of the cloak and ripped it off the boy with such force that, coupled with the unstable surface of the bed, Faramir lost his balance. As he fell, his head hit the corner of the bedside table with a sharp impact and his unconscious body lay crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from his scalp.  
  
When he regained consciousness Gandalf, his Uncle Imrahil, and his brother attended him. His head throbbed and he noticed that the cloak was carefully laid on a nearby chair.  
  
In a weak voice he asked, "What happened? Where is father?"  
  
Gandalf looked at a stony-faced Imrahil, then back at Faramir and said, "You are lucky in your brother, dear lad. We had not gone far and Boromir was the first to hear you fall and came to your aid before your father could summon the healer. He reminded your father that he always taught you boys to honor your word. You were not out long and the cut on your scalp is very shallow. You will still be able to travel."  
  
Boromir blushed fiercely and Faramir, in a quiet voice, said, "Thank you, Boromir." He then turned to his uncle and asked, "Can I see father?"  
  
The golden-haired Prince of Dol Amroth was grim and said, "Only if you want to and only in my presence."  
  
Faramir whispered, "I do."  
  
A stricken Denethor came in the room and said, "Fari! I didn't mean it! It was an accident."  
  
With a stronger voice Faramir responded, "I know that father. I don't blame you. I still love you but I am going with Uncle Imrahil."  
  
To the surprise of both his sons and his brother-in-law, Denethor took both boys in his arms and sobbed for a long time.  
  
Later, both boys cried as they laid flowers on their mother's grave and again when they said goodbye to each other. Faramir's cheeks were still wet when, along with Finwe and his mother's cloak, he turned to watch the black cloth of mourning darkening the White City and waving in the breeze.


End file.
